


Don't Close Your Eyes

by 71tenseventeen



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, NO DEATH, suicidal character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-08-29 09:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16741447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/71tenseventeen/pseuds/71tenseventeen
Summary: Zhenya just has one last thing to do.





	1. Chapter 1

Zhenya’s hands shake as he lines up three pill bottles on the coffee table, breath catching in his throat. Then he picks each of them up again, checking dosage carefully, because at his core, he still feels like a coward. 

He doesn’t want it to hurt. 

When he’s reassured himself that this is the right combination, he lines the bottles up again and looks around the room. He’s boxed up what few belongings he has, to be donated by—whoever it is that will be stuck taking care of this. He does regret that part. 

With a sigh he sets the water bottle on the table next to the bottles and stands to retrieve the envelopes from the kitchen counter. There are two. The first one—just a simple note—will go to his landlord. The other, the thicker of the two, contains all of the family photos that he managed to bring with him when he came here and a letter. A single paragraph apologizing that he hopes more than anything in the world will reach his Mama. He blinks back tears—he can’t think about that right now—and tucks the envelopes into his jacket pocket. 

He just has one more thing to do before he sends them off to their respective recipients. 

Zhenya hovers uncomfortable outside the large brick building. Mama always tried to teach him that it was a safe place to be, someplace he would always be welcome but somehow, as he grew, it became ominous. Scary and dangerous in ways that Mama couldn’t understand until she did and then it was no longer a place he was welcome. After that he didn’t go to church anymore. 

It feels a little silly to be here now, after all this time, but in a way it feels right. He doesn’t know what, if anything he believes anymore but this feels like a way to bring things full circle, a way to try to right the wrong he’s about to commit. Gripping the medal that still hangs around his neck, after all this time, he forces himself up the stone stairs. 

He’s never been in this particular church but it still feels achingly familiar. From the ornate decor to the sound of the choir washing over him, it’s all so similar to the churches of his childhood. It’s equal parts comforting and disconcerting. 

He takes a seat in the last pew on the left. It’s New Year’s Eve and there are a lot of people but most of them are concentrated in the front and middle of the sanctuary with less people scattered around the pews furthest back. Three rows in front of him are empty but there is one other person, a man, sitting to his left and down a few feet. Zhenya hadn’t paid him much attention at first but now that he’s looking, something about the man seems out of place. 

He’s bundled up in clothes that look like they’ve seen much better days, a ratty backpack at his side as he sits hunched over. At first Zhenya thinks he’s sleeping but then he notices the tattered book in the man’s hands. It looks familiar but he can’t place it until the man shifts and flashes the back cover completely. Zhenya lets out a surprised huff as he recognizes the hockey history book he read a couple years back. 

The man glances up at the sound and Zhenya looks sheepish at being caught staring. “ _I’m sorry. I recognized your book—I read it, too,_ ” he says in Russian. 

The man cocks his head and a soft pink starts to spread across his cheeks. “Um,” he says, looking a little lost and suddenly Zhenya realizes—

“Oh. I just say sorry. Not mean to be rude, just see your book and surprise. I read it too, awhile back.” 

“Oh,” the man says, looking relieved. “Yeah it’s a good one if you like hockey.” 

“Love hockey. Used to play when I was kid,” he says and then shoves back the hurt of those particular memories. 

“No way, me too,” the man smiles and— _oh_. He’s got the most beautiful smile Zhenya has ever seen. 

“Was really good read. Very…” he trails off, looking for the right word. “How you say, covers all area?”

“Comprehensive?” 

“Yes, that the word. Comprehensive.” He nods. 

“I’m only about halfway through, but yeah, I think so too.” 

“You ever read _My Last Fight_? About McCarty?”

“Not yet,” the man shakes his head, “But I want to. Maybe I’ll see if the library has it.” 

Zhenya nods. “Is pretty good read. Some interesting stuff.” 

“Thanks for the recommendation,” he says, before holding out a gloved hand. “I’m Sidney.” 

“Zhenya,” he replies and is surprised to find he’s smiling. “You, ah, you member of church?” 

Sidney snorts a soft laugh. “No, I’m not. I’ve never been here before.” 

“Not speak Russian, come to Russian church?” Zhenya is mostly curious and is carely to try not to sound accusing. 

Sidney shrugs, cheeks pinking a bit again. “It’s, um,” he clears his throat. “It’s cold out tonight, you know? And they said it was open late because it’s New Years so…” he trails off, glancing down at his lap. 

Zhenya already suspected that Sidney might be homeless, coming in off the street for temporary warmth and shelter. “Understand,” he says, hoping he sounds friendly and non-judgemental. “I not member of church either. Not be in church in really long time.” 

“No? Why tonight?” 

Zhenya shrugs and, because he can’t begin to explain the real reason he’s here to Sidney, he finds himself saying, “Just felt important to do, tonight. Miss family, Russia. Think maybe this help little bit.” 

Sidney nods, the distant sad look in his eye all too knowing and suddenly Zhenya desperately wants him to keep talking. “How old when you play hockey?” he blurts and Sidney looks up, surprised. 

For a second Zhenya doesn’t think Sidney will answer him but then a slow, soft smile spreads across his face and he sits up a little straighter, scoots a little closer. “You ever heard of Nova Scotia?” 

Zhenya settles in. 

An hour passes, then two as the different choir groups switch out and continue to perform and As midnight creeps ever closer, Zhenya finds himself dreading the end of this conversation. Sidney is nice and it’s been so long since he had anyone to talk to, so long since someone looked at him like he was just a normal guy and not the failure everyone else thought he was. 

But he has plans. 

He clutches at his jacket, feeling the crinkle of the envelopes in his pocket and wonders what will happen to Sidney after the church closes. Where he’ll go and how he’ll take care of himself over the next weeks of winter. Will he find other churches to sit in by night? Maybe he’ll get lucky and get a spot in a local shelter. Zhenya wonders who he’ll talk to when he finishes the book. Will he try to get a copy of _My Last Fight_? 

“Zhenya?” Sidney’s voice breaks through his thoughts and suddenly Zhenya’s throat is thick as he looks up. 

His eyes burn as he blinks at Sidney before saying softly. “I know sound weird probably but, you feel like friend now. Worry, a little bit, wonder if you have place to stay tonight?” 

Sidney gives a resigned smile and shrugs. “Don’t worry, okay? I’ll make do. I always do.” It’s probably meant to be comforting but it’s not at all.

Zhenya blinks at him again, thinking about that and knows he has a decision to make. Clearing his throat he says, “Sidney, you very kind to me tonight, have no idea how much you help me. Would like to return favor, invite you to come stay in my apartment tonight. Is not much but I have couch, leftover soup.”

“Zhenya that’s—” Sidney pauses, swallows hard. “That’s a very nice offer but you really don’t have to do that. I promise I’ll be alright.”

“Want to. Would mean a lot to know you safe, warm tonight.”

Sidney stares at him for a long time, long enough that Zhenya is sure he’s going to refuse before he finally nods. “Okay,” he says softly, holding Zhenya’s gaze. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out, closing his eyes. 


	2. Chapter 2

Zhenya’s hands shake as he fumbles the key before it finally slides into the lock. He’s nervous as he leads Sidney into his little apartment—not because he’s afraid of any harm coming to him but as he glances at the handful of packed boxes stacked neatly by the door, he’s afraid of what Sidney will think of him. 

His eyes sweep across the room, landing on the pill bottles and even as he mumbles that Sidney should sit down, relax, he’s heading for them, hopes Sidney won’t see them. 

If he does, will he guess what they were for? 

Zhenya scoops them up and stuffs them into the inside of his coat pocket, turning to find Sidney staring at him. His cheeks burn with shame and he ducks his head, dodging Sidney’s gaze in favor of taking his coat off and laying it over a chair. 

Sidney is mostly quiet, sitting in one of the two kitchen chairs as Zhenya quickly rummages through one of the boxes to pull out a pot and some bowls and spoons. He pulls the only container left from his fridge and dumps it into the pot explaining quietly, “Is Shchi. Have cabbage and vegetables. Hope is okay.” He gives it a stir, still not willing to look at Sidney. 

“It’s fine,” is the soft reply. “Thank you for sharing it with me. Are you, um, are you sure you want to?”

“Of course,” he says, surprised and looks up, gesturing to the pot. “Have a lot, more than enough for us.” 

Sidney watches him for a moment and takes a breath. “Yeah. It’s just… It’s just that it’s the only thing that was in your refrigerator and I wouldn’t feel right eating the last of your food.” 

Zhenya blanches and turns his attention back to the pot in front of him. “Is no problem. Have money to buy more food.” 

“Oh,” is his only reply and Zhenya is thankful he doesn’t push the topic. “Would it be okay if I washed up a little bit before I eat? Just, um, my hands and face?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Zhenya nods towards the two doors leading off of the main room. “Left is bedroom, right is bathroom,” he says, and immediately curses softly. A moment later he’s carefully avoiding Sidney’s gaze as he opens another box and pulls out a roll of toilet paper, a couple of washcloths and a bar of soap. “Sorry,” he mumbles as he passes them into Sidney’s hands without looking up.

They eat together at the little table, Zhenya’s hands still shaking as he spoons the soup he thought he wouldn’t get a chance to finish into his mouth. The enormity of the consequences of choosing to bring Sidney home are crashing down on him. He’s not sure if he’s relieved or terrified. 

“Looks like the snow’s picking up.” 

Sidney’s voice jolts him back to attention. “Hm?” 

“The snow,” he nods towards the window where it’s coming down much thicker now. 

“Wow. Look like we get out of it just in time.” Zhenya takes a deep breath, trying to will his anxiety away. “Sorry I’m only have water or would offer hot tea.” 

Sidney shrugs. “Don’t apologize. This is the best meal I’ve had in a long time.” 

His smile seems genuine and Zhenya feels his eyes sting as he does his best to rasp, “Me too.”

They slip back into silence as they finish off the soup. It’s not until they carry their bowls to the sink that Sidney says, “Do you have any soap? I don’t mind washing them.” 

Zhenya shifts awkwardly, only mumbling, “Will have to pick some up tomorrow.” 

He invites Sid to sit on the couch while he sets to work rummaging through the boxes again, sighing softly before he finally pulls out his old copy of _My Last Fight_ and a couple other hockey books. 

He hands them to Sidney before settling on the other end of the couch. “Should keep those, I’m done with them. Think you might like them—pretty good read.” 

Sidney flips through the first few pages of the top book before looking over at Zhenya. “These are great but—don’t you want to keep them? For when you move?” 

Zhenya ducks his head again, muttering “Not moving. Don’t mind if you keep. I’m already read.” 

Sidney glances down at the books again and then sets them on the coffee table, next to the water bottle that’s still there from earlier. “Can I ask you something, Zhenya?” His voice is soft and gentle. 

“Okay.” 

“Why is all your stuff packed up if you’re not moving? Did you just move in?” 

Zhenya shakes his head. “No. Not just move in. Is… complicated.” 

He nods, biting his lip apprehensively. “It’s okay if you say no but… Are you sure you want me to be here right now?” 

Zhenya’s head pops up, eyes wide. “Yes, of course. You so nice to me earlier. Mean a lot to return favor. I know I’m… Maybe wasn’t prepare but glad you here, Sidney. Want you to stay, be safe.” 

Sidney takes a deep breath then, looking gently at Zhenya. “What were your plans before you decided to talk to me?” 

The flash of pain in Zhenya’s eyes is obvious before he winces and looks away, breath coming more quickly. “Is not important.” 

“It feels like it is,” he replies as gently as he can. 

Zhenya’s shoulders start to tremble even as he shakes his head. “Not,” he croaks, voice breaking. “Not imp—not important.” His breath is coming quicker as he tries hard not to fall apart in front of his guest but it’s all washing over him now—all the pain he’d desperately pushed down earlier in the hope that it would be the last time he had to.

For a long time now Zhenya has felt invisible, like his hopes and hurts alike don’t matter to anyone. Like _he_ doesn’t matter enough for anyone to take a closer look and eventually he stopped hoping that anyone would. Somehow it hurt less to accept his fate. But Sidney, a _stranger_ … Sees right through him, sees things that Zhenya has long carried alone and it terrifies him. 

He drops his head into his hands as a strangled sound escapes him, breath hitching painfully as he tries not to fall apart and fails completely. He feels a gentle hand on his arm and then another arm sliding tenderly across his back and it’s too much. He’s sure he’s shaking apart at the seams and will never be able to pull himself back together, even as, finally, Sid pulls him fully into his arms. Whispering softly, soothingly and all Zhenya can get out is, “Мне жаль,” over and over again. 

Zhenya loses track of time, of everything but the contrast between the pain of his sobs and the tenderness of soft stroking fingers in his hair and on his back. 

It’s a long time before Zhenya feels like he can breathe again but when he does, he realizes they’ve shifted. Sidney’s arms are still around him but they’ve reclined together against the back of the sofa, his face tucked under Sidney’s chin. 

There are soft touches, gentle strokes through his hair, down the side of his face and soft words of comfort that he can barely focus on. It feels so good and hurts so much. 

“Мне жаль,” he whispers again, wishing he had the strength to pull away. He can’t imagine what Sidney must think of him. 

Gentle fingers sweep away the last of his tears before Sidney is nudging gently, wanting Zhenya to look at him. He’s reluctant, filled with shame and so afraid of what he’ll see when he finally looks up. What could Sidney possibly think about him after this—nothing good, he’s sure. But then he looks up into eyes that are glossy and red around the edges and he doesn’t understand. 

Sidney slides his fingers tenderly over Zhenya’s jaw. “What do those words mean?” 

“Мне жаль,” he rasps, voice barely there. “I’m sorry,” he says even quieter. 

“Oh Zhenya,” Sidney breathes looking like he might cry. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” 

Zhenya drops his eyes again, out of energy to argue. 

“Hey,” gentle fingers force his chin up again. “I mean it. You don’t deserve to hurt like this.” 

“Sidney…” his voice cracks again, overwhelmed by the care a virtual stranger is showing him. 

Sidney holds his gaze and Zhenya is amazed. Amazed that there’s no hint of pity or disgust or any of the things he expected to see. Instead he sees understanding and concern and… _tenderness_ and he realizes he doesn’t care anymore that Sidney is someone he’s only just met.

Maybe that’s why when, after a beat, Sidney leans closer watching tentatively and stops so close that Zhenya can feel his breath, he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t question the hope he sees in his eyes when he asks softly, “Is this okay?”

Zhenya nods and slides a hand gently around the back of Sidney’s neck because it’s the best thing he’s felt in a long, long time. And then Sidney kisses him. 

Zhenya is lost again, sinking into the exquisite pain of finally feeling what he’s been deprived of for so long. _It’s temporary,_ the voice in the back of his head, the one that doesn’t believe he’s worthy of this and never has been, says and Zhenya pushes it back. _I don’t care_ , he thinks because what does he have to lose? If he gets this tonight and tomorrow it’s gone, well he’ll only have waited a day to carry out his plans. 

The kisses are soft, delicate, not begging for more but with no desire to stop and Zhenya lets them carry him away. Together they shift again and he lays along the couch carefully pulling Sidney close, feeling more desperate than he ever has in his life. And then Sidney’s hands are fisted in his shirt, holding tight and Zhenya forces himself to pull back for just a moment, to gaze down into eyes that he suddenly realizes look just as hurt and just as desperate. Sidney whimpers, a little sadly and Zhenya realizes he’ll do anything to make sure Sidney doesn’t have to make that sound again and closes the distance. 

For a long time, it’s like that. Soft, soft kisses and gentle nuzzles while they hold each other tight. And then Sidney’s fingers slip under Zhenya’s shirt to find bare skin and they both suck in a breath at the contact. Sidney is frozen, looking like he’s terrified of what his reaction will be so Zhenya reaches down and gently urges his fingers further under the fabric and creeps his own fingers under Sidney’s layers. 

“Zhenya,” Sidney whispers as they sink into another kiss. “It’s been so long since someone has touched me…” and Zhenya knows because it’s the same for him. It’s not about sex or pleasure—he knows they would both be content to lay here just touching all night because it’s about feeling human for the first time in a very long time. 

“Me too,” he says sadly before they’re kissing again. 

It’s not until Zhenya’s fingers start searching higher up, seeking something that Sidney pulls back with a sharp breath. “Zhenya,” he says, looking so reluctant. “Hey.” 

Zhenya freezes, horrified that he’s gone too far. He tries to brace himself but Sidney touches his cheek. “No, hey. It’s okay. It’s so good but I just…” he looks away then, pink rising on his cheeks. It would be beautiful if Zhenya didn’t see the clear expression of shame. 

“What wrong,” he asks carefully, so afraid to break the spell. 

“I haven’t, um,” Sidney clears his throat, avoids Zhenyas gaze. “I haven’t been able to clean up very well in a long time.” 

Understanding settles in and Zhenya kisses him gently, one more time before pulling away reluctantly. “Come. I take care of you.” 

Sidney opens his mouth for a moment before he closes it, expression softening, eyes going glassy again as he lets Zhenya help him up. 

They stay close, stopping only long enough for Zhenya to grab some soap, shampoo and a couple of towels from a box labeled, “bathroom.” 

In the bathroom Zhenya takes a deep breath and reaches for the hem of Sidney’s tattered sweater, stopping to meet his eyes. “Is okay if I do?” 

Sidney nods. 

Slowly and carefully, Zhenya peels off his layers—the sweater, a long sleeved shirt, a thin undershirt—hating the look of shame on Sidney’s face as he does. He pauses then, swallowing hard. “You want I give you privacy? Not want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No,” Sidney shakes his head. “I’m not. I just…” He drops his eyes again. “I don’t look… I’ve been on the street for a long time.” 

Zhenya’s heart breaks all over again and he has to reach out, has to touch Sidney’s cheek, _needs_ him to understand how much he means this. “Think you most beautiful person I’m ever meet in my life.” His voice cracks as he says it—he’s never meant anything more. 

A fat tear rolls down Sidney’s cheek as he lets out a long, ragged breath before reaching for Zhenya’s shirt. 

Together they carefully undress each other before stepping together into the shower. A look of relaxed bliss passes over Sidney’s face as he steps under the hot spray. Watching him, Zhenya is struck by how grateful he is that their paths crossed and can’t stand the thought of Sidney not having this tonight. 

Swallowing thickly, he reaches for the shampoo. Sidney’s eyes open in surprise at Zhenya’s first touch before his expression softens. Slowly, he leans into the touch, letting his eyes drift shut again. 

Cautiously and with hands more careful than they’ve ever been before Zhenya washes his hair. He takes his time, in no hurry to rush Sidney out of the first hot shower he’s had in who knows how long. After his hair he moves to his face, neck, shoulders and then works his way down the rest of Sidney’s body, touching him with nothing less than complete reverence. It’s what he deserves, at the very least. 

Zhenya is extra gentle around the few bruises scattered over Sidney’s body, proof of the life he’s been living. He feels his fingers graze ribs and knows he’s underweight, has gone hungry too many times. He’d give everything he owns to make sure that never happens again. 

When he’s finally finished, he assumes Sidney will turn the shower off so it’s a surprise when he reaches for the soap and returns the favor for Zhenya. Maybe Zhenya hasn’t had to go without food or a shower like Sidney has but he’s been starved for touch for so long now and Sidney’s gentle hands bring tears to his eyes. 

He doesn’t resist, goes pliant in Sidney’s hands and if he lets himself cry a little bit in relief, Sidney doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. In fact, he makes sure all the soap is rinsed away and then shyly pulls close, tucking himself into Zhenya’s embrace and they stand like that until the water starts to cool. 

Zhenya can’t take his eyes off of Sidney’s as he carefully wraps a towel around his shoulders and starts working it over his body. When he’s satisfied that most of the water is wicked away, he brings the towel to Sidney’s head, rubbing gently at his curls until he peeks out and smiles up at Zhenya. 

It takes his breath away. 

Zhenya smiles back, shaky again as he tries to remember every detail of Sidney’s face when he’s smiling like this. He runs his fingers over the scruff on his chin when a thought occurs to him. 

“Wait here,” he says, starting to pull away. 

Sidney grabs his wrist. “Zhenya, wait. Where are you going?”

“Have idea.” 

“You’re soaked, you’ll freeze,” he says with another soft smile as he picks up the other towel. “At least let me dry you off first.” 

So he does, swallowing thickly as he warms under Sidney’s touch. He smiles when Sidney moves to his tiptoes to try to reach his hair, so determined as he leans in close. Zhenya wraps his arms around him, holds tight and lets out a ragged breath when Sidney does the same. 

When he feels like he can stand to pull away, he lays a towel out over the edge of the counter and guides Sidney to sit before dashing into the living room. It’s cold and his skin dimples all over but he’s smiling when he finds the things he’s looking for in the box and ducks back into the warmth of the bathroom. 

He feels nervous again, suddenly, as he holds up the disposable razor. “I didn’t know if maybe you want shave?” 

Sidney quickly nods. “Yeah, I would love that.” 

But when he starts to get up Zhenya stops him, biting his lip for a moment before asking shyly, “Is okay if I’m do for you?” 

Sidney watches him for a moment, face softening as he nods. “Okay.” 

Zhenya takes a breath as he steps forward between Sidney’s legs. He takes his time lathering the shaving cream, wishing he had something better than the stuff he bought at the dollar store. He does his best to make up for it with careful strokes, gentle fingers guiding Sidney’s head left, right, up and down. 

When he’s finished he wets a corner of his towel to wipe Sidney’s face clean and then pat it dry with the other end. He finishes up with a small tube of lotion, squishing what’s left of the almost empty container onto his fingers and then rubbing it gently over Sidney’s freshly shaven skin. 

“Done,” he finally says, voice still shaky. 

Sidney glances over his shoulder into the partially fogged mirror and smiles at his reflection before turning back to Zhenya. “Thank you, Zhenya. I almost forgot what I looked like.” 

He knows he’ll never forget what Sidney looks like in this moment. 

Returning the smile, Zhenya asks, “You want lay down?” 

Sidney studies his face. “Will you lay with me?” 

Zhenya has to swallow hard before he nods. “Yes.” He can’t imagine anything being able to drag him away from this right now, as long as Sidney wants him. 

Sidney retrieves a toothbrush from his bag and they brush their teeth side by side. Zhenya unearths clean sheets and a couple of blankets for the bed that he’d stripped earlier, as well as some warm clothes for them both. Sidney accepts the sweat pants with a frown, thumbing at the soft fabric. “Can we…” he swallows hard. “I just… Feeling you close…” His voice cracks and Zhenya has to gather him up again because he knows. _God_ he knows. 

When they finally climb into bed they wrap around each other under the covers, as close as two people can be, legs tangled together carefully. By rights it should be impossible to keep his eyes open. He’s exhausted and he knows Sidney must be too but sleep doesn’t come. 

He doesn’t know how long they lay like that, holding each other, touching and kissing gently, neither of them willing to put any distance between them. 

By the time Sidney puts a careful hand on his cheek, looks at him with wide, tentative eyes he realizes the shadows are starting to change, paling to soft blues and purples. “Maybe…” Sidney starts and trails off, glancing down. 

Zhenya strokes a hand through his hair gently, tightens the arm he has around him. “Can say anything to me.” 

Sidney meets Zhenya’s eyes again, takes a breath before he continues, voice little more than a nervous whisper. “Maybe I could stay with you and you could stay with me.” 

Zhenya’s chest tightens as he sucks in a deep breath at the words that he knows aren’t about being in this apartment but about being together, taking care of each other. His eyes are glowing with tears again as he lowers his forehead to Sidney’s. “We stay. Together.” 

In the distance he hears the heavy sound of the old church bells beginning to ring as they signal a new day and a new year. 

A soft beam of light is glowing in around the blinds and curtains now as Sidney settles in, head nestled on Zhenya’s chest and under his chin, both of them holding on tight as Zhenya finally closes his eyes. 


End file.
